


Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

by Majestrix



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, I'm hitting all the majors, Murder Mystery, Of course there will be smut, depictions of violence will not be graphic, except no demons, save the human kind, tropey rom-com
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/pseuds/Majestrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reeling from major betrayal, neither Lieutenant Abbie Mills or Professor Ichabod Crane are looking to date, and definitely aren't looking for something serious. But there's something to be said about chemistry, even untimely chemistry, that can ruin the best self-made plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Not Me, It's You

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by one of the-head-and-the-kin's beautiful rom-com manips. I took off on some points but I definitely kept the idea that both Abbie and Ichabod had experienced a horrible relationship before meeting. If you're not following her on tumblr you're missing out.

“You can still back out.”

Abbie laughs as she adjusts her veil, but when Jenny doesn’t join in she looks up at her sister through the mirror. “What are you talking about?”

Jenny shifts the bridal bouquet from her right hand to her left and helps Abbie straighten the back of her veil. “I’m just saying that if you have any hesitations, any at all… We can just walk out of here. I’m not scared of Luke’s mom.”

“I’m not scared of her either,” Abbie fires back. “It’s just important that we cultivate a close relationship. Luke loves his mother and so do I.”

“She makes you call her Mrs. Morales.”

“I call her Carmen,” Abbie says. She stares at herself in the full length mirror, wondering when she stopped being able to recognize herself. Maybe that was a good thing. “Stop trying to talk me out of getting married, Jenny.”

“Fine. My lips will remain sealed until you’re signing the divorce papers,” Jenny mutters as she checks her hem.

Abbie snatches her bouquet from her sister and takes a deep breath. “I’m getting married,” she murmurs to herself. “I wish Mama were here.”

Jenny nods, then shakes her head. “I-” The Mills sisters turn as the door opens and Luke’s younger sister Maya sticks her head in. “We’re coming,” Jenny says before she can say anything.

“Don’t bother. The wedding is-”

“ _How dare you! You ungrateful bitch_!” Abbie’s jaw drops as Carmen Morales barrels around her daughter toward Abbie. “You broke his heart!”

Abbie moves away from Mrs. Morales’ flailing arms but her movement is hampered by her dress and she only manages to fall backward onto a loveseat. “What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Morales flings a piece of paper at Abbie’s face, seething. “You couldn’t tell him face to face, could you? He had to find out like this?”

Abbie feels faint as she realizes she’s holding her admission letter into Quantico. “How did he… I mean, where did you get this?”

“My baby had to find out on his own! How could you break his heart like this?” Carmen screams at her.

Abbie’s still reeling. “I didn’t… I wasn’t going to accept, that’s why I didn’t tell hi-”

“Liar! And to think I let you use my mother’s veil! Take it off you stupid cow!” Carmen grabs the edge of the lace veil in her hand and yanks _hard_.

Abbie yelps as her hair pulls along with it and she tumbles over her heels to the ground with Luke’s mother on her back.

Jenny kicks off her shoes and launches herself at Carmen, knocking her off of Abbie’s back. They roll to the middle of the room where Jenny gets the upper hand, pinning Carmen against the carpet. “You better be glad I don’t feel like going to jail, Carmen. Touch my sister one more time and I will beat your ass, elder or not.”

“Both of you are just worthless, ungodly strays. I should’ve said something before it got this far. I don’t care if you have a badge or not,” Carmen shrieks at Abbie, who’s on her knees trying to remove all the pins that secure the veil. “You’re both unlucky!” Maya is still at the door, trying to hold nosy relatives out of the room.

On the day of a wedding everyone loves a tragedy.

Abbie looks at the people looking at them and feels exposed. Lord knows she doesn’t like her dirty laundry being aired for all to see. All that’s missing is being naked. She releases a shaky breath. “Luke couldn’t tell me himself?” she asks. “He couldn’t face me and had to get his mom to do it?” The last pearl pin is gone and the veil is off. Suddenly Abbie can breathe again.

“That’s what parents do for their children; try to protect them. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

Jenny hauls Carmen up and cold clocks her, sending her heels over feet across the back of the sofa where she doesn’t move. Maya screams and runs over to her mother as various aunts, uncles, and cousins pour into the room. Abbie hauls Jenny behind her, wishing she had her gun and badge right now.

Jenny grabs her hand and pulls her toward the back of the room, where there’s a door that leads to the bathroom. “Jenny, Jenny!” Abbie tries to warn her, but it’s too late. The deadbolt locks from the inside and there’s lots of angry pounding on the door, and screaming in Spanish. “It’s just a bathroom,” she says quietly. “Goes nowhere.”

“There’s always a way,” Jenny says as she climbs on top of the toilet and yanks at the window.

Abbie watches her wrench on the old metal and sighs. “Thank you.”

Jenny keeps working the lock back and forth. “For what?”

“Are you serious? You punched Luke’s mom.” Abbie begins to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “She just went over like a feather.”

Jenny snorts. “I hit her as much for me as for you,” she admits, forcing her shoulder into the window. It gives partly and Abbie snaps out of her sluggishness to push beside her. Eventually they’re able to open it completely and stick their heads out. There’s no one around in the twilight – they’re facing the parking lot, which is a miracle they’re both thankful for. “Let me go first,” Jenny says as she hauls herself through. As the maid of honor her shorter dress makes it easier to move, and she falls to the grass with barely a sound.

Abbie takes a little more maneuvering to get through the window, and by the time she joins Jenny in the rapidly approaching evening she’s ripped a hole in a sixteen-hundred-dollar wedding dress. “Shit,” Abbie sniffs. “Just great. I was going to return this.”

“No big. I have someone who can make it look as if it never happened.”

“Can they make this day look like it never happened?” Abbie whispers.

Jenny clasps her sister’s wrist and squeezes briefly, but Abbie doesn’t react. “Abbie?”

Abbie can’t break down now, not outside of the church she’s supposed to be getting married in, in her fucking _wedding dress_. But she can’t see for the tears and it’s finally hitting her; it’s over. As hard as she worked to be who he wanted Luke still found a reason to leave her.

“Oh god, Abbie. Come on.” Jenny grabs her hand and pulls her along past the car that had a gaily decorated JUST MARRIED sign on the back to her convertible. She’d offer to put the top up but Abbie doesn’t look like she cares right now. “Let’s get out of here.”

Abbie stares down at her ring and nods. “Yeah, anywhere but here.”

***

Ichabod pushes the door closed with his foot as he eases out of his jacket gratefully. New York City is baking and his sojourn about the city has left him feeling almost wrung out, but he hopes the gesture worth it.

Unfortunately, four years of marriage had dulled what was a romantic spirit, coupled with a transatlantic move and proving himself as a professor at NYU – all of the drive and attention Ichabod used to shower on Katrina and their marriage kind of fell to the wayside.

Hence takeout from their favorite restaurant, Isadore, a fine bottle of wine and a bouquet of pink, white and orange roses, a bouquet that meant to convey love, marriage, enthusiasm, new starts and gratitude.

Or at least that’s what the florist said as he charged Ichabod $74.50.

“Katrina, my love? I’ve come home early,” he says as he puts his briefcase in the study and darts back into the kitchen. “I hope you haven’t taken lunch; I took the liberty of procuring your favorite herb crusted steak and white wine potatoes, minimal salt as you like it.” Ichabod pulls out two plates and glasses.

“Ichabod! I thought I heard your voice,” Katrina says from the door as she tightens her robe in surprise. “What brings you home so early?” She adjusts her wet hair as she looks at what he’s unpacking.

Ichabod beams at his beautiful wife and moves to give her a kiss. She moves her face at the last minute and his mouth lands on her cheek. Ichabod tries not to feel rejected and continues less enthusiastically. “I let my afternoon class go; mercy really. No one can concentrate in this heat and I thought, why fight it? Why, when I have an amazing wife to spend the day with?” He looks at her wet hair quizzically. “I interrupt a shower?”

Katrina shrugs out of his grasp with a shallow laugh. “You’re not the only one who noticed the heat. I went out to tend to the rooftop garden and nearly fell prey myself. I needed a shower to cool my blood.” She glances at the unopened wine on the counter. “You certainly went all out,” she says.

Ichabod nods. “Once I locate the corkscrew I shall have everything ready for our respite.”

Katrina clears her throat. “Ichabod, I...” She scratches the back of her head and crosses her arms. “I hadn’t – I wasn’t expecting you home. So early.”

“Hence the surprise. Didn’t you tell Doctor Lowenstein I lacked the spontaneity you fell in love with?”

Katrina sighs and nods. “Now you listen,” she says lowly.

Ichabod hears a thud and straightens immediately. “What was that? Is there someone else here?” he asks.

Katrina pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ichabod, about that,” she says.

Ichabod raises a finger and marches past her, stalking to their bedroom and throwing open the door. On the corner of their marital bed Abraham sits with wet hair, pulling on his boots. “Ichabod,” he says quietly.

Ichabod can only blink at his best friend.

“Ichabod, please. Don’t make a scene,” Katrina says as she slips past him into the bedroom.

“Oh, of course not. Why would I want to do that?” Ichabod says. “What should I do when I find my wife and my best friend fucking?”

“Don’t take that tone, Ichabod. You’re not clean in this. I love Katrina and I’m not so far up my own arse that I can’t show her properly,” Abraham says as he rises to meet him. “She tried talking to you. _I_ tried talking to you, but you couldn’t see past your syllabus, could you?”

“So you think the best thing to do is to fuck our best friend?” Ichabod turns to Katrina.

“That wasn’t our intent,” she says. “We three have been friends since we were teenagers, Ichabod. We’ve always been there for each other and when you stopped… Abraham was a great friend. He brought me great comfort.”

“I’m sure,” Ichabod says.

“We didn’t want to do this in this manner,” she says.

“What is _this,_ exactly,” Ichabod asks.

“I’m leaving you, Ichabod,” Katrina says quietly.

Ichabod stares at her incomprehensibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ve thought about this for some time. The marriage counselor isn’t working. It’s not getting better between us and I feel trapped. I hate coming home. I dread hearing the door because I know you’ve come in and I’ve got to pretend that we’re not falling apart. That we’re not becoming strangers. I can’t even say we’re friends at this point. You know nothing about my life and nothing about me and it began when we all left home.

“At least in England I had your attention. Abraham and I had your affection and you were interested and engaged and present. Here…” She shrugs helplessly.

“You’re a robot purely dedicated to achieving tenure. Proving your father wrong that you can make it without his help when we moved here to help you avoid that,” Abraham finishes. “By God, man. Working yourself into a shadow for a man who isn’t even here. We got tired of hoping, Ichabod. We grew weary of wondering when you would pull yourself out of your arse and come back to us. So we turned to each other.”

Ichabod swallows, stumbling over to Katrina’s vanity and falling heavily on the bench. “I – I was doing this for us,” he whispers.

“No, Ichabod. You were doing it for you. And maybe that’s okay. For _you._ But not for us.” Katrina tucks her hair behind her ear and sighs. “I’ll dress and we’ll be off. I’ve already started proceedings and my barrister will be in touch with yours.”

Ichabod clenches his fists when he realizes his hands are gesticulating out of control. “Right,” he says hoarsely. He sees the corkscrew on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, next to a half empty bottle of wine. Of course. Without a word he rises and snatches it from its perch and returns to the kitchen.

With remarkably calm hands he’s able to finally open the wine and pour himself a generous helping in his glass. He stares at the bottle, his back to the kitchen entry until he hears the quiet click of the front door.

He feels nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being friends means always having to help with the move, an all too human evil is afoot in Sleepy Hollow, and Jenny almost regrets trying to help her stubborn ass sister.

Ichabod places the last box on his desk and looks around. It’s not his office in the city but it’s an office. There’s double doors that lead to a back porch and beyond is a glimmer that promises a lake.

“Tell me again how you lucked out on something like this smack in the middle of Fall? People shit themselves for a front row seat to see the leaves change and you just trip into the perfect location?” Frank Irving, one of the best men Ichabod has ever had the fortune to meet, stands in the door with a beer in each hand.

“Maybe the universe agreed with you and wanted me out of the city,” he murmured. “Is one of those for me?”

Frank glances down at the cool beverage in one hand while taking a long drink out of the other. 

“I don’t know. When you said ‘move,’ you said some small things, not everything you brought with you on the Santa Maria.”

Ichabod attempts to appear stern to keep his grin at the minimum. "I told you that joke is so historically inaccurate it makes my teeth hurt.” He grabs the beer and takes a quick sip – the Guinness is the same but the pang he usually experiences isn’t there. Maybe relocating is the best thing he could do. “Thank you,” he says.

Frank shrugs. “What are friends for? I mean, besides menial labor obviously.”

“I'm afraid you've got me there; the only other thing that comes to mind is sleeping and conspiring with your wife.” Ichabod shoots Frank a 'who knew' expression and laughs.

Frank covers his wince with another long drink of beer. _Baby steps_ , he tells himself. Hell, if he and Ichabod’s positions had been reversed he doesn’t even know if he’d even be in the presence of mind to wash his ass and get dressed, let alone move _away_? 

“Come on, let’s go look at what kind of view you’re looking at.”

Ichabod lets himself get pulled onto the porch, wondering if he can be a different person in a different place.

***

Swearing, Jenny shakes out the umbrella as best she can before abandoning it on the porch and letting herself into Abbie’s house. 

“Abbie! Come grab some dinner with me,” she yells, slipping out of her jacket and putting it on the rack by the door.

The furnishing is Spartan, as is the décor; everything appears half finished, just like when Jenny helped Abbie move everything before the wedding.

_I’ll decorate when we come back. I’ll have the rest of my life to decorate._

“Abbie?” Jenny moves through the living room and peeks into the kitchen. It still looks like a model home, untouched and unfamiliar. Just looking at it makes an angry jumble of thought and emotion threaten to rise like bile at the back of her throat but Jenny tamps it down ruthlessly. She refuses to ruin her appetite for people she wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. Doubling back, she glances into the dining room and sees a haphazard pile of folders in an odd little stacks.

Jenny shakes her head and comes closer; sure enough on the other side of her uneven wall of paperwork her tiny big sister sleeps. A mug of something indiscernible sits on a coaster next to a half-eaten piece of buttered toast, both too far way to be easily reachable. Who knows how long ago it’s been since either has passed Abbie’s lips. Honestly, sometimes Jenny feels like the mother more than the sister these days. 

“Abbie,” Jenny shouts, a bit more bite in her tone than she intended.

“What?” Abbie sits up immediately, reaching for the gun she’d already removed. She blinks until she recognizes Jenny and falls back onto the cushion of her arms with a grumble.

Jenny smirks. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake.” Abbie burrows further into her arms and continues to slumber on.

Jenny throws her hands up in surrender. “I want to report a crime,” she says instead.

Abbie jerks upright, flipping through the folders and groping for a pen. When her eyes focus again on Jenny’s sardonic grin she sags in the chair. “I’m going to kill you,” she mutters as she stretches her arms overhead and lets them flop back down. “What do you want?”

“I got out of school early today and wanted to know if you wanted to grab dinner together. It’s horrible outside and I didn’t want to go back to my apartment and ramen.”

Abbie yawns and shakes her head. “You’ll have to deal with ramen. I already ate and I got a lot of work to do.”

Jenny eyes the paperwork as she runs her fingers along the labels. “This looks like more than enough work for one person.”

“It’s just tight around the precinct right now and we’ve all got to pull our weight.”

“Yeah, since Morales ditched you guys for NYPD, right?” Abbie says nothing as she goes about straightening the files. “Doubt I’ll see any of Sleepy Hollow’s finest killing themselves like you do every night, Abs.” Jenny pulls the chair opposite and sits. “So why are you?”

It’s been two weeks and still the crime scene comes to her in flickers when she closes her eyes; she turns from those, too. “Why are you so dramatic?” Abbie asks. “I’m just working late, that’s all. Caught a case that needs a bit more work.”

“This case has been going on every night since the wedding was cancelled? Three whole months?” Abbie says nothing, pursing her lips and shuffling her folders around. “Abbie, you’re practically wasting away,” Jenny says, trying to put as much concern into her voice as possible, anything for her sister to see.

Abbie flinches at Jenny’s plea. “Hey, at least I’m able to fit into my favorite jeans from high school again,” Abbie jokes, looking anywhere but her sister.

“That’s just sad. The only thing about you that changed from high school to now is your tits and your ass and you’re losing your best asset for what? Morales’ ass?”

Abbie scratches the side of her head and finally regards her sister. “Am I really losing my ass?” she asks, mock-horror creeping over her features.

Jenny bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “What, a joke? Call the paper this moment or no one’s gonna believe this happened!” Jenny reaches across the table and takes her sister’s hand. “I’m worried, Abbie. The guys at the job aren’t going to say anything because they think you’re going to do all their work for them. What few friends you had you don’t see any more. You don’t go out.”

“It just takes time, Jenny,” Abbie says, pulling her hand out of her sister’s grasp. “I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Doesn’t _feel_ like it. It feels like you’ve given up and you’re just going through the motions.”

“Amazing how a degree in archeology is like psychology,” Abbie snaps.

Jenny marshals her strength. Maybe now’s the time they have that talk they both tiptoe around. “What are you waiting on, Abbie? For real? For Luke to come back and tell you how much he messed up and how much he missed you? How he wants you back?”

Abbie turns away from Jenny and her words, fixated on the ragged edge of one of her files. “No,” she says, but Abbie can hear the lie as plain as day. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I feel like I’m stuck and all I can do right now is put one foot in front of the other and do what I’m good at, which is catching bad guys. That’s the only thing I’m sure of right now in my life. That, and you,” she says, looking back up at her sister.

Jenny softens, the anger she’d set aside for this talk fails her; her rage isn’t going to help Abbie heal, no matter how much Jenny wishes. “Okay. Do you trust me?”

Abbie frowns. “Of course.”

“Then we’re going to do this together, okay? Baby steps.” Jenny gives her an encouraging smile.

She tries not to be suspicious. “What is _this_ ,” Abbie asks.

“Come to dinner with me. That’s the first step. We can go to Maggie’s and you’re going to break your diet because you don’t have a wedding dress or a swimsuit to fit into, like you needed it anyway, and if that’s not a cause for celebration I don't know what is, damn the cause,” Jenny says.

Abbie stares at the work she’d pulled from archives; it looks less and less appealing in the face of Maggie’s double bacon cheeseburger and her heavenly fries. Her stomach growls loudly, chiming in its opinion. “Seems I’m outvoted. Fine. I’ll grab my jacket but I'm driving my car.”

“Sure, as long as you’re buying,” Jenny says cheerfully, smiling wider at Abbie’s limp glare. “Hey, struggling college student,” she says, pointing at herself.

“Well come on, college student,” Abbie says, a bit of pride creeping into her tone. “Let’s make sure you have enough brain power for your next test.”

***

This stretch of highway is so remote you can travel for miles and not see another pair of headlights going in either direction. It’s quiet and mostly still; tall trees dusted in white line either side of the road like out of some painting, as the rain finally shifts into snowfall. It feels magical in the middle of nowhere; as if you’re the only person left in the entire world.

He enjoys the prickle of cold as he inhales deeply, reveling in the crisp scent of the air. His exhale is slow, and with child-like enjoyment he watches the bloom of steam billow like smoke from his mouth. 

“This is my favorite time of the year,” he admits to his company. She’s a short woman with hair cut into a stylish bob that just brushes her shoulders. 

“Like you can turn a corner and silence just... descends from the heavens like a gift, right? I really think we were given winter to contemplate. Everything about this season is just _slow down_. _Relax._ Something we all need to be reminded of every once in awhile. Am I right, Melody?”

Melody stares up at him noiselessly, warily tracking his movements. 

He nods expansively. “I understand you don’t feel like talking all that much right now. The situation is less than _ideal_ ,” he murmurs. “I just… I want you to know this isn’t personal,” he says, shielding his eyes from the powdery snowfall. Melody whimpers as he reaches down to move her hair from her brow. “That isn’t too tight, is it?” he asks, running his finger along the tape across her mouth. “It’s not going to be on there long, so don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your pretty little mouth.” He presses harder against the tape, enjoying the yield of her full lips beneath the tape. “Yes, I know I said last time was the last time but she hasn’t learned her lesson yet.” He trails his fingers down Melody’s cheek and regards her prone form with a reassuring smile before slamming the trunk closed.

With one more appreciative glance about the idyllic surroundings, he gets into his car and pulls off, leaving nothing but an overlooked shoe on the side of the service road. In a matter of minutes, the shoe, the small signs of struggle, and all the tire tracks are buried beneath the eagerly falling snow. 

***

Jenny wipes her mouth and groans happily. “That was so good. If I could I would live out the rest of my life eating warm butter rolls dipped in Maggie’s gravy.”

“Just when I think I’m over her burgers, she pulls me back in.” Abbie hums in amusement as she slouches in their booth in the corner of the diner, trying to wait to make room for dessert. 

“Just give up. Maggie is too strong to be beaten.”

“I surrender, just as soon as I can fit in some apple pie without bursting.”

Jenny plays with the fraying edge of the napkin next to her plate. “So, I have a great idea.”

Abbie opens her eyes and squints at Jenny. “I don’t know what to be more afraid of, the use of the word _great_ or _idea_.”

“I think you should get back out there.” Jenny avoids looking at her sister, intent on the ceiling and finishing her beer. 

Abbie takes a pointed look out the window over their booth. “Rather not, it’s snowing,” she deadpans.

“I see your wit is as sharp as ever,” her sister murmurs. “I’m talking about I think you should go out on a date with someone. Let them take you out somewhere nice where you talk about something other than work and if they’re nice and you’re attracted to them consider going to their home or bringing them back to your home or even finding a hotel and doing the do.”

Abbie blinks and shakes her head. “Wha… What? Are you insane? I was just left at the altar and you want me out there _dating_?” she hisses.

Jenny raises a finger. “First of all, can you not say dating like it’s a dirty word? Second, moving on with your life would be healthier than trying to forget you have a life to begin with. And third, it’s not like you’re a widow. There is no minimum required mourning period for when your fiancé is a douchebag.”

“I knew it, I knew there were ulterior motives to this invite,” Abbie says as she scrambles for her wallet in her purse.

“Abbie, Abbie! Stop, don’t go,” Jenny cries, grabbing Abbie’s wrist. “I’m sorry! Look, I’m worried about you and if Corbin were here he’d be worried about you, too.”

Abbie snatches her arm back as if scalded. “Low blow, Jenny,” she warns.

Jenny bites the inside of her mouth as she scrabbles to maintain her temper. “It’s not if it’s the only thing that’ll get you to listen,” she says lowly. “It’s been three whole months and I know it wasn’t all sunshine and roses before then. I was there, remember?” Abbie looks away, her jaw moving back and forth as she remains silent. “When are you going to shake this off?” Jenny asks.

Abbie pulls out her wallet and counts out enough bills for the meal and a tip. “I think that’s up to me, Jenny,” she says pointedly as she gathers the rest of her things. “Not you.”

Jenny sighs and slumps in the booth as her sister stalks off, hitting the door like a mini wrecking ball. _Smart move_ , she thinks. Jenny sulks until her beer runs out. Let's be real, she knew it would take more to get Abbie out of her rut. Sometimes you couldn’t be straight up with Grace Abigail Mills.

Sometimes you needed a little… _finesse_.


End file.
